


D.L.M. Year One

by jamiebond1



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Good Draco Malfoy, Good Narcissa Black Malfoy, M/M, Malfoy Manor (Harry Potter), POV Draco Malfoy, Pining Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley Bashing, Slytherin Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-19 02:27:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29619183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamiebond1/pseuds/jamiebond1
Summary: Draco just wants to be a good person— not the perfect little Pureblood that Father wants him to be.  When Draco and his new friend Harry Potter are Sorted Slytherin, Draco learns two things; one, that Harry will be the perfect friend to help him prove that Slytherins aren't all evil, and two, that Harry's penchant for pranking is going to make it difficult for Draco to be both partner-in-crime and top of his class.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 7
Kudos: 38





	1. Breakfast and The Hogwarts Express

**Author's Note:**

> Uhh okay so this is the first chapter of a fic I started writing as a joke to see if my English teacher would say something about it being fanfiction but my friend said I should post it so Carson babe this is for you. Love you. If you're reading this and you aren't Carson, I love you too and I hope you like my story.

**Sunday 1 September 1991**

“Draco, darling, wake up,” were the first words he heard that morning. They were the first words he heard every morning, the comforting voice of his mother waking him from his long recumbent periods. He would miss her, he knew.

“Mum, it’s early. Can’t I please have five more minutes?” Draco whined, his voice raspy from not being used all night. He turned over in his bed and pulled the sheets above his eyes to shield them from the light streaming through the window his mother had just opened.

“Draco, it’s September the first. We have much to accomplish today, and I already let you rest an extra ten minutes. You are well aware that the Hogwarts Express won’t wait for you, and you have too many things for your father to owl to you if you miss it. Now, get out of bed and go brush your teeth. Your hair potion is on your bathroom counter, make sure to use it properly. You know how your father likes for you to look put-together. Breakfast will be ready for you when you get downstairs.”

Draco reluctantly dragged himself out of bed one limb at a time, and walked across the cold stone floor to his bathroom. That’s the way the Malfoy Manor was, a bastion so large that every bedroom had its own bathroom. He had lived there his whole life, all eleven years, and he was sure there were parts he hadn’t seen. 

That could be partly because his father had banned him from entering some rooms, like his office or his bedchamber, but Draco didn’t care to see his father’s quarters anyway. He preferred Father when he was locked in his study, not finding anything to discipline Draco for.

Looking in the mirror, he could tell that no amount of hair potion in the world could fix the state of disarray of his wavy blonde hair, so he decided to jump in the shower. Another thing about Malfoy Manor; the water was either scalding or freezing. Draco had tried many times to warm or cool the water with some spells he had read about in one of the books in Father’s library during the hours he spent studying for Hogwarts. No matter how hard he concentrated, nothing ever brought the water temperature and his preferences to a state of concord. Draco consummated his shower by slicking his hair back the way Father liked.

Walking down the stairs, Draco could smell the pumpkin pasties Mother had baked for him. He entered the dining room and sat down in the middle of the unnecessarily long dining table, about six chairs away from his father, as always. Father paid him no mind, though Draco never tried to speak to him during meals. The head of Malfoy Manor always seemed to see Draco’s presence as nettling. Father was reading the _Daily Prophet_ , the wizarding newspaper. The headline read, _“Hogwarts Back in Session!”,_ and underneath was a photo of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, which Draco would be attending for the next seven years of his life. 

Mother placed one platter of pumpkin pasties in front of Draco, and another in front of Father. He gave her a curt nod and folded up his newspaper. 

“Thank you, Mother, these are my favourite.” Draco stood up and hugged his mother tightly. He would miss her so much. 

“I know, darling. I love you,” replied Narcissa. Tears welled up in her eyes as she spoke. “I can’t believe my baby is going off to Hogwarts already. It feels like just yesterday you got your first toy broom, and now you’re off to school… oh!” Draco stood again and wiped the tears from his mother’s face, himself worried about his incumbent departure from his childhood home.

“It’ll be alright Mother, I’ll be coming home for Christmas. The time will fly by, it’ll be as if I never left.” His words seemed to reassure her a bit, because she stopped crying. For now, at least. Draco sat again, scarfing down the delicious treats. His mother may not be the best cook most of the time—hence the army of House-Elves, but her pumpkin pasties were amazing. 

—

King’s Cross station was crawling with Muggles that morning as Father apparated Draco just outside the barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten. More Muggles than Draco had ever seen before. It was ten thirty in the morning, a half-hour before the Hogwarts Express was set to leave platform nine and three-quarters. Draco wondered why the Muggles were wearing such funny clothes, not a robe in sight.

“Draco! Come and stand close to me now, we wouldn’t want you getting lost and missing the train,” Father called to him from behind. Draco was excited to see the platform. He had never been before. 

“All right, now on the count of three, you and I are going to run right at the barrier together. Understood?” Draco looked up at his father like he was crazy. 

“Father! Have you lost it? I can't run at a brick barrier, that’s ludicrous!”

“Draco,” Father sighed, “you aren’t going to _hit_ the barrier, you’re going to go _through_ it, onto the platform. And you know better than to speak to me with such disrespect.”

Draco was still skeptical, and worried he would soon be pieces of wizard flotsam, but his father had already started counting _One, Two, Three!_ and Draco was running, Father pushing the trolley in front of him. Draco closed his eyes right before he was about to hit the barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten, and just when he expected to shatter his shoulder against brick, Draco felt like he was going through a curtain of mist. 

Opening his eyes, he could see that he was on the other side of the barrier. He was suddenly very grateful for magic, because without it he would have ended up in hospital. 

There were even more people on the platform than he could have imagined. Parents saying goodbye to their children for the last time until maybe June, first years and younger siblings staring wide-eyed at the magnificent train, older students catching up with the friends they hadn’t seen since June, and a group of professors chatting amongst themselves. 

Father placed Draco’s trunk on the train for him while Mother stayed on the platform with Draco, openly crying now, though Draco knew she had been fighting back tears for the past half hour. 

“Oh, Draco, I’ll miss you so much. I want you to write me as soon as you get a chance. Use your new owl, alright?” She blew her nose into a tissue that she got from her purse. 

“Mother,” Draco muttered, “pull yourself together. I won’t even be gone that long. I’m coming home for Christmas, remember? It’s no big deal.” In truth, he was nervous about being gone from his mother and his home for so long, but he had to stay cool in from of Mother. He didn’t want her to worry any more than she had to. 

“I know, darling. I just wish I could see you sooner. It’s going to feel like forever.” Draco could hear the pain in her voice, could see the hurt in her eyes. 

“Mother, don’t worry, okay? I’ll write, I promise. And I’ll work really hard and get good marks and… “

“Draco,” Lucius interjected, “the train is about to leave. Hurry along now.” Draco was far from surprised at his father’s lack of sadness over his leaving. He never seemed to show any emotion besides anger. 

Draco hugged his mother one last time, holding tight for as long as possible before the first whistle of the train rang through that air. His father made no motion to hug him, but nodded at him with a passive face. 

Waving goodbye, he boarded the train just as the second frenetic whistle blew.

—

The train was even larger on the inside than Draco thought it could possibly be. He walked down the aisle looking for a place to sit. Near the end of the train, he came across an empty seat next to a funny looking pair of boys. One had thick black hair and strikingly green eyes, his rounded spectacles taped in the middle. Draco thought he must be a Muggleborn, since he was wearing funny-looking blue trousers. The other, Draco gleaned, was a Weasley; ginger hair, hand-me down robes, spellotaped-up secondhand wand, and a pet rat. 

His father had warned him about families like the Weasleys, poor purebloods, and blood-traitors, at that. He said they were bad company. Draco would be damned if he let his father incarcerate him in the pusillanimous traditions of pureblood families. He knocked on the doorframe of their compartment.

“May I sit with you?” Draco was surprised at how timid his voice sounded. 

“Go ahead,” the Weasley boy said with a mouth full of chocolate frog, “What’s your name?”

“Draco Malfoy, you?”

“I’m Ronald Weasley, and this is Harry…” Ron looked confused. “Harry, you never told me your last name.”

“Potter,” Harry mumbled.

“ _HARRY POTTER?_ ” Ronald screamed, his voice emphasizing the exigency of the boy’s presence. “I’VE BEEN SPEAKING TO _HARRY POTTER_? No way, you’re taking the piss!” Draco understood Ronald’s excitement. Harry bloody Potter was sitting in the same compartment as them.

Harry’s face reddened so deeply that it seemed as though he had transfigured his head into a tomato. Draco couldn’t decide whether he felt bad for the boy or if he should ask to see his scar. He had long dreamed of being as famous as Harry Potter, and now, sitting across from him, he felt inferior. 

“Do you really have the scar?” Ronald’s eyes were full of wonder. Draco bristled at the boy’s lack of tact in the presence of a celebrity.

Harry sheepishly pulled his hair back from his forehead, and Ron’s already wide eyes grew wider. Draco knew he was staring, but he couldn’t pull his eyes away. The thin lightning bolt scar on Harry’s forehead was a lighter pink than the rest of his skin, and about an inch from top to bottom. 

A witch with a snack trolley came along and asked if they wanted anything. Draco only had a couple sickles in his bag at the moment, so he bought a pumpkin juice and two chocolate frogs. 

“I haven’t got any money,” Ronald groused, eyeing the Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans. 

Harry pulled out a drawstring bag, his carefree tone unburdened by pecuniary factors, held it out for the witch and said, “We’ll take the lot.” Draco had a feeling he and Harry would get along swimmingly.

By now it was already three o’clock, and they would be arriving at Hogsmeade station in about three hours. The boys had been speaking for hours and were becoming fast friends. Harry was a peculiar boy. He had grown up with Muggles, and had no idea about anything that went on in the wizarding world. It was quite funny when he opened his first chocolate frog. Potter gave a little yelp when it jumped out of the package and out the window, and again when his Dumbledore card began speaking to him. 

“The picture’s talking! Where’d it go? He just up and walked away!”

Ronald and Draco exchanged jocular looks and were soon rolling on the floor with tears of laughter in their eyes. 

“You… can’t just… expect him to stay…” explained Draco between laughs. “Photographs capture the person that’s in them. The person can’t just stay in the photograph, he’s got other business to attend to, like going to see a fellow photograph.”

“So, pictures talk and walk?” Harry asked, still confused. 

“Just wait until you see the paintings at Hogwarts,” said a frizzy haired girl from the doorway, “they’re quite chatty.”

“And how would you know? We haven’t even started there yet!” Ronald snapped at her.

“I read about it in _Hogwarts, A History_ , of course. Haven’t you read it yet? It was on the supplies list.” Draco didn’t like the mordant tone of her voice. 

Ronald grumbled something about a know-it-all and crossed his arms in frustration. 

“Would you like to sit with us?” Harry began cleaning his candy wrappers off the bench next to him, but the girl cut him off:

“No, thank you. I was just on my way to see the rest of the train. I’m Hermione, by the way. Hermione Granger.” She stuck her hand out for each boy to shake, and each said his name as they shook hands. “It was a pleasure meeting you all,” she said a little too enthusiastically, and she turned and walked down the hall in the opposite direction she came from. Draco knew that if he was up against her to be considered the brightest wizard in his year, he’d have to have quite the stratagem.


	2. The Sorting Ceremony

**Sunday 1 September 1991**

“ALL FIRS’-YEARS OVER ‘ERE, NOW! COME ON, OVER HERE!” As Draco stepped off the train at Hogsmeade station, he saw the giant of a man yelling for the first years. Ronald, Harry, and Draco made their way over to him, shouldering their way through clusters of older students and to the right of the line of lanterns delineating the split between the first-year and upper-year paths. 

“Hi, Hagrid,” Harry called up to him, “how are you?”

“Harry, you know him? How?” Ronald was stupefied. 

“We met when Hagrid brought me my letter and took me to Diagon Alley for my school things,” Harry explained, “He’s the one who got me Hedwig, my owl.” Before Draco could ask why the giant man had brought Harry his letter and why he hadn’t just received an owl, Hagrid was yelling again.

“OI! ALL FIRS’-YEARS COME ‘ERE! WE’VE GOTTA GET ON THE BOATS ‘FORE THEY LEAVE US! Come on, let’s go Harry, Harry’s friends.” Hagrid almost effortlessly garnered the attention of the mass of children with the volume of his voice.

The boats were, for lack of a better word, magical. They glided across the lake without a paddle or a guide, and if Draco squinted, he was sure he could see the mermaids and grindylows beneath the surface of the water. Turning a corner, Draco felt all the air rush out of his lungs. Rising into the night sky above him was the most magnificent thing he had ever laid eyes on. The castle was massive; the turrets pierced the clouds. 

The little boats made their way into an alcove in the side of the mountain, and the children were ushered onto docks.

“An’ here we are, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” Draco could tell by the pride in Hagrid’s voice that he saw the school as hallowed ground.

“It’s huge!” Ronald’s voice was shrill, his expression bewildered. 

Harry chuckled at the look on Ronald’s face. “Just wait- we’re going to have to navigate it all by ourselves.” Draco hadn’t thought of that. Now that Harry had planted the idea, he was quite nervous. The Manor had been sumptuous, sure, but _this_ was something else entirely. The castle was massive.

Getting out of the boat they had shared, Harry, Ronald, and Draco began discussing the houses. 

“I want to be in Gryffindor,” Ronald said, “that’s the house the rest of my family has always been in, it’s the best one.”

“Slytherin’s my family’s house. I want it so that I can prove that not all of them are bad.” Ronald’s expression startled him. “What?”

“It’s just… you know there isn’t a single Slytherin who didn’t go bad.”

“That’s not true, Ronald, which is my whole point. I don’t want to be bad. That’s not why the house was founded. Salazar Slytherin originally made Slytherins as ambitious and cunning, not evil. The stories of Slytherins all being evil is sophistry and superstition.”

Ronald’s face reddened with anger. “I can’t believe I’ve been talking to someone who _wants_ to be in _Slytherin_.” He turned and stormed off huffily into the growing crowd of first-years in front of the doors. 

“Ron, wait! I’m sorry, Draco, how could he be so rude? I hadn’t really thought about what house I’ll be in. What are they again?” Harry asked sheepishly.

“Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and Gryffindor.”

“With my luck, I’ll end up in Slytherin.” Harry pointed to his scar. “That was Voldemort’s house. Big surprise,” he obviously hadn’t been surprised by this. Draco might have been a bit offended by the Slytherin comment had he not been taken aback by Harry’s use of the Dark Lord’s name.

“Potter! You said the Dark Lord’s name!” Draco’s eyes were wide with surprise.

Harry looked rather embarrassed and responded, “Well, yeah, what else would I call him? George?”

Draco snorted, “You’re taking the mickey if you expect me to believe that the reputed Harry Potter doesn’t know that nobody says the Dark Lord’s real name.”

“I dunno, I just thought it was some idiosyncrasy of Hagrid’s, not some wizarding fiat—”

“ _Wizarding fiat?_ Merlin, Harry, I’d think you of all people would know why we don't use his name. After what he did to your—”

“Yes, Draco, what he did was depraved, but doesn’t it just make everyone more afraid of him if you can't even _say his name?_ It’s an odd name, isn’t it? Vold—”

“Don't say it!” Draco interrupted. “Harry, don’t say it, alright? Please.” Draco shifted uncomfortably at the thought of hearing Harry say the Dark Lord’s name again. The name of the man his father held as a god, his father who was now living in ignominy for having been a follower of.

—

“Gather around, children! The sorting ceremony will begin soon!” There was an old witch in emerald green robes standing at the top of the stairs. 

“Who’s that?” Harry whispered to Draco. 

“I think that’s Professor McGonagall. She’s Head of Gryffindor, I think.”

Professor McGonagall turned with a swish of robes and led the mass of children into the dining hall where all of the upperclassmen were sitting at their respective house tables. At the opposite end of the room, a rather mundane wizard’s hat stood on a stool. 

Draco could hear the other first years whispering to each other, and Ronald’s voice rose above the others’. “Fred and George told me that nasty thing’s got a penchant for biting you on the head when McGonagall puts it on you. They said the test is about how you handle the bite.” Draco sure hoped that wasn’t true.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, and announced, “When I call your name, you will come sit on the stool. I will place the Sorting Hat on your head and when it shouts your house out, you will go sit at that table. Hannah Abbott!”

When the Sorting Hat called out “HUFFLEPUFF”, the whole table stood up, cheering and clapping. 

The ceremony went on, names being called at random, until “Draco Malfoy!”

As he walked up to the stool, Draco’s heart pounded in his throat. He sat down, facing the dining hall. Everyone’s eyes were on him. The Sorting Hat was placed on his head, and Draco heard a voice in his mind. “Ah, a Malfoy, eh? And the heir to House Black, as well. Your families have been in Slytherin for hundreds of years, you know. All except your mother’s cousin, of course.” The hat paused for a moment, then continued its rambling. “You’ve a fecund mind, young Draco. You would do well in Ravenclaw—”

Draco jumped, eyes widening. “Not Ravenclaw! Please! I’ve got to be in Slytherin, like Father and Mother and Aunt Bella and—”

“Yes, boy, quite alright. You are driven, and cunning, that’s for sure. In that case, better be…”

“SLYTHERIN!”

The Slytherin table exploded. Draco was ecstatic. He ripped that nasty hat off his head and ran as fast as he could to sit with his new housemates, a smile plastered across his face. Everybody was patting him on the back and punching his arms, congratulating him.

“Harry Potter!” McGonagall called. The room went dead silent at Harry’s name. He sat on the stool, his eyes locked with Draco’s. He smiled, probably at something the hat had said inside his head, nodded, and the hat called out, “SLYTHERIN!”

Again, the Slytherin table erupted in clapping and screaming. Harry ran and sat down next to Draco and asked, “What about Ron? What house do you think he’ll get?”

“Ronald Weasley!”

“I suppose we’re about to find out,” Draco whispered, still giddy over his own and Harry’s Sortings.

“GRYFFINDOR!” Ron was smiling as he sat down next to his horde of brothers at the Gryffindor table. 

The rest of the sorting ceremony took another half hour. Hermione from the train and some Cho Chang girl were sorted into Ravenclaw. And then Dumbledore stood up to make his speech. 

“I would first like to welcome our new first-year students to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. At this school, you children will hone your mental acuity, multiply your magical prowess, and, most importantly, you will make the best friends of your life. You will learn to cast spells by perfecting the nuances of spoken magical word. Now, I know the ramblings of an old man only serve to enervate you young folk, but I ask that you hear me out for just a moment longer. I would like to remind you all that the third-floor corridor is out of bounds…”

Dumbledore recounted a list of rules and restrictions that the students needed reminding of, and Draco couldn’t help but notice that the man’s voice was gentle and kind. The real Albus Dumbledore was nothing like the picture Father had painted of him; overweening, decrepit, corrupt. He seemed more like a friendly grandfather.

“Now, let the feast begin,” said Dumbledore after a while, and with a wave of his wand food appeared on the tables. More food than Draco had ever seen. It was delicious. 

—

The Slytherin common room and dorms were located in the dungeons below the Great Lake. Looking around on their way down the corridors, Draco saw that every other student his year was shivering from the cold, damp air, and was obviously afraid of Professor Snape, head of Slytherin house. A tall man, he towered above the mass of eleven-year-olds. He had a hooked nose, almost beak-like, set between two dark eyes. His hair was chin-length, and black as night. Draco could see how this man could intimidate people, but Draco had known the professor his whole life. Draco couldn’t be afraid of his own godfather, after all.

“And here we are,” Snape drawled, “the password to get into your common room is ‘Fiendfyre’. Forget this password, and you will not be able to enter the common room or your dormitories. I will not repeat any of this, so you had better be paying attention, _Miss Greengrass._ ” Daphne immediately stopped whispering to the girl next to her and looked down, blushing at being called out. 

Snape repeated the password to a blank expanse of stone wall, and once he finished speaking, it opened like some esoteric doorway into the dungeons. 

The Slytherin common room was nothing like Draco had imagined it. There were lavish yet comfortable-looking sofas everywhere, and a fire was burning in the stone hearth in the middle of the room. Desks were scattered about, and everything, even the grand tapestries adorning the stone walls, was either Slytherin’s green or some shade of gray. Draco thought at first it might be a figment of his imagination, but after looking around for a few minutes he realized that this room really was this beautiful. 

At first, Draco had thought that the far wall was made with illuminated stone, but a shadow crossed it from behind, and Draco realized that he was looking out into the middle of the Black Lake. It was magnificent; there were plants floating in the clear water, all sorts of magical aquatic creatures flitting about between them.

Someone tripped over the corner of a carpet and everybody laughed except Draco and Harry. So this was how it was going to be, everybody looking out for themselves and nobody caring about what happens to their fellow Slytherins. Just like home, except without Mother or Dobby to keep him company. 

“Boys’ dormitories are down the hall to the left, girls’ to the right. You will know which is yours when you see the plaque outside with your year. Bathrooms are located off each dormitory. Anybody caught trying to sneak into the other gender’s dormitories will be assigned one week of detention with me, and I can assure you that it will be unpleasant. Goodnight.” Snape flicked his hair out of his face and walked away, leaving the students to find their rooms. 

“Draco, we’re in the same room! Come see!” Harry was obviously excited about their sleeping situation, but all Draco cared about was the bathroom. 

“Of course we’re in the same room, Harry. We’re both first-years. Is there warm water in the showers?”

Harry’s face got all screwed up. “I would suppose so, why?”

“No reason. Just curious, I guess.” Draco would have to check tomorrow morning. For now, he was knackered. “Let’s go to our room. I’m so tired I could sleep for a week.”

Their room was amazing. The beds were half the size of Draco’s bed at the manor, but he didn’t care. They were all four-posters done up with green quilts and heavy drapes, and next to each was a small end table and a desk. The six beds were separated by windows that looked into the lake. Draco sat down on his bed and laid down on top of the covers. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, still in his robes and trainers.


	3. Day One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! As of right now this work has one beta reader who is very nice to me (ily Carson thank you very much you are wonderful), so if you want to point out mistakes in the comments that I might've missed that would be super cool and helpful. I would also appreciate any feedback in general because I need motivation to keep writing! I kind of posted this on a whim so the formatting of the dates or chapter titles might change a bit as I keep writing and change my mind about certain things. Anyway thank you for reading my work! I hope you enjoy this chapter. :)

**Monday 2 September 1991**

When Draco opened his eyes and sat up on the first day of classes, Harry was already sitting on the end of his bed, fully dressed. 

“Why are you up so early? Breakfast hasn’t even started yet, has it?” Draco yawned, rubbing his eyes. 

Harry shrugged and jumped up. “Old habit. And yeah, it just started a few minutes ago. I was waiting to see if you’d want to walk up there and sit together? It’s fine if you don’t,” he added shyly. 

“’Course I do. Just give me a few minutes to get dressed and ready.” Draco swung his legs over the side of the bed and pulled fresh robes out of his trunk to replace the wrinkled ones he fell asleep in the night before. Glancing over at Harry’s bed, Draco noticed his trunk was open and empty. Apparently, so did Goyle.

“All unpacked already, Harry? Where’s all your stuff? Your pictures and things.” he asked. Harry’s shelf next to his bed had a few sets of neatly folded school clothes and some textbooks on them, but there were no books or photos anywhere on his desk or side table. 

Harry’s face went red and he looked at his feet. “That’s all I’ve got,” he mumbled. Draco could see in the way Harry wrung his hands together that he was embarrassed at how little he possessed. 

“Sod off, Goyle. He just packs light, right Harry? Less rubbish to distract him from school.” Draco didn’t want Harry to feel bad about not having much stuff. He made a silent promise to himself to bring it up later, though, when the whole dorm wasn’t listening.

Harry’s head snapped up and he met Draco’s eyes with a grateful smile. “Er, yeah. Right. Ready to go, then?” He didn’t wait for Draco’s response, just made for the door to the dorm. 

Draco followed Harry through the common room, past a notice that said there would be a meeting that night for all first-years with the prefects, and up through the castle to the Great Hall. 

Taking his seat at the Slytherin table, Draco immediately piled his plate up with at least one of everything. He was used to fancy breakfasts, but Father always gave him a warning look if he went back for seconds. Draco was almost overwhelmed by how much food was in front of him, his for the taking. Almost.

After stuffing his face with copious amounts of eggs, sausage, toast, pancakes, and puddings, Draco looked at Harry’s plate. There was a half-eaten sausage and a slice of dry toast with one bite taken out of it sitting in front of him. 

Draco nudged Harry with his elbow. “Harry, mate, eat up. You’re skin and bones. Come on, nobody’s stopping you.” Draco scooped a heap of eggs and a couple of slices of bacon onto Harry’s plate. Harry looked embarrassed again, but after a minute he started eating more. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled in between bites, “I’ve just never seen this much food. Never mind be able to eat any of it.” Harry had his head down again. Draco added this to the list of things he would talk to Harry about later, though, because Professor Snape was coming around the Hall with the pile of Slytherin class schedules. He handed Harry and Draco their schedules, and they opened them immediately.

“Brilliant! We’ve got double Potions on Friday mornings! What class are you looking forward to most?”

Harry scanned his schedule again before he answered, “Defense Against the Dark Arts sounds interesting, and I guess Potions will be cool, right? Since it’s our Head of House teaching it.” 

Draco snorted, “Harry, you of all people _would_ look forward to Defense. There’s probably not much they can teach you, though. You defeated the bloody Dark Lord!”

“Yeah, but I was just a baby. I didn’t know what I was doing! I want to know how to protect myself, you know?” 

“I suppose…. Anyway, Snape’s my godfather and he’s taught me some potions already. Partner with me and I bet we’ll be top in our year.” Draco liked being able to offer something to Harry. He would be making Father proud. The little nagging voice in the back of his head reminded him of his vow to himself not to play into Father’s expectations of him, but he pushed it down for now. 

——

Slytherin first-years had a study period first, so Draco and Harry made their way to the library after breakfast with Theo and Pansy. Draco listened as Pansy nagged Theo about whether he thought the Gryffindor or Hufflepuff sixth-year prefects were prettier. 

“Pansy, you know I don’t care to look at girls. I just want to pass Transfiguration, which is why we’re going to the library. Maybe we should focus on that.” 

Draco couldn’t help but chuckle and tell Harry under his breath, “Theo and Pansy and I have known each other our whole lives. Our fathers are all friends, so we were always together while they were in meetings at the Manor. They’re the same as they’ve always been; Pansy is obsessed with girls and Theo is obsessed with books.” He cast a fond glance at his friends’ backs and turned to see a quizzical look on Harry’s face. “What?” he asked.

“What do you mean, Pansy’s obsessed with girls?” Harry’s voice was dripping with careful confusion. 

“I mean she’s got a new crush every week. Can’t make up her mind, that one. Right, Pans?” he called. Pansy turned around and winked at him, a playful smirk on her face. She grabbed Theo by the sleeve of his robes and pulled him to a table in the middle of the library. Draco steered a still confused-looking Harry to a more secluded area of the library, between some shelves, and laid his books out on the table.

“You mean she fancies girls?” Harry whispered after settling into the seat across from Draco.

“Yeah, why?” Now Draco was the confused one. Did Harry think there was something wrong with that? How odd.

Harry was quiet for a moment, and then his eyes went wide. “So, if girls can fancy girls, does that mean…”

“Blokes can fancy blokes. It’s not most people, but it’s common enough, I suppose. You mean you didn’t know?” Draco had just assumed it was common knowledge. 

“I guess I did, I just never thought about it much. Aunt Petunia grumbled a lot about ‘filthy homosexuals’, now I think about it.” Harry’s face became thoughtful again. “So it’s not a bad thing, then? I mean, they can get married and stuff?”

“’Course they can! Why wouldn’t they?”

“I dunno. The Muggles can’t, ‘s against the law.” 

Draco was stunned. “It’s _what?_ That’s stupid. How do you know all this about Muggles? I thought you were a pure-blood, like your family.” The Potters weren’t in the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but Draco knew they were still a respectable and wealthy family.

Harry shook his head. “No. Mum was Muggleborn. Does that make me Half-Blood? She was still magic, not Muggle, so would it be more like five-eighths? Either way, Mum’s sister and her husband raised me after Mum and Dad… you know.” Harry’s face fell at the end of his sentence, and Draco felt his gut twist. He hadn’t known Harry for very long, but he knew he never wanted to see that look on Harry’s face again. 

“Raised by _Muggles?_ What’s _that_ like? Do they really keep their food in big boxes with fake ice?” Draco had a million questions about Muggles just waiting to be answered. He’d always wanted to know how Muggles got along without magic, but Father would never have approved of his interests.

“It’s called a fridge. What else would we keep our food in? It would go bad on the counter.”

“A stasis charm, of course! Though I don’t know how to do it. That’s the House Elves’ job, of course. What are the Muggles like? Are they horrible, like Father says?” Draco hoped Harry said they weren’t, if only because it would mean Father was wrong.

Harry nodded thoughtfully. “Well, the ones I live with are horrible, but they’re not all like that. Most Muggles are just regular people, I suppose. I don’t know many wizards to compare them to.” 

“What do you mean, they’re horrible?” Draco had a sudden moment of realization, “Is that why you don’t have any pictures of your family?”

“Er, yeah,” Harry said. “The Dursleys don’t like me very much, so I don’t have any photos with them—not that I would want them, anyway. I don’t much like them either—and I don’t have any photos of Mum and Dad.”

Draco’s heart hurt a little at Harry’s words. As much as he didn’t like Father most of the time, he couldn’t imagine not having him or even any photos of him. He silently resolved himself to finding a photo of Harry’s parents for him, and decided he would send Mother an owl soon to ask if she could help.

——

The Slytherins’ first class on Monday was Charms, right after lunch. Harry and Draco were partnered, and Draco could see Harry’s discomfort at Professor Flitwick’s fawning over him. He was a funny-looking man, Flitwick. Draco reckoned he must be part Dwarf, with how short he was. Funnier still was his moustache. It was at least twice the size of his nose, and fell over his upper lip in a shape that reminded Draco of a walrus. 

Flitwick started class off with a half-hour speech about the value of his subject, a lecture that Draco was sure he would be getting from every one of his teachers this week. At the end of this speech, he did a roll call and paused for a moment at Harry’s name. The man looked starstruck. He quickly regained his composure and moved on, but Harry groaned quietly beside Draco.

At the end of class, Flitwick awarded five points to Harry for “paying close attention to the lecture”.

Herbology was much the same as Charms, with a lecture about the merits of growing magical and non-magical plants and the properties of some common ones. Harry’s face went bright red when Professor Sprout, a very short and very round woman, awarded five more points to Slytherin for Harry being “such an attentive student”.

After they left the greenhouses, Harry told Draco he didn’t much feel like going to dinner. Draco would hear nothing of the sort. “You have to eat, Harry. We can go back to the common room after, though. Just come eat with me first, yeah? I reckon everyone in our year’s going to rush down to be early for the meeting anyways.”

“Yeah, alright. Let’s go, then,” Harry acquiesced. 

——

“Gather ‘round, children!” Higgs shouted across the common room, his hands cupping the sides of his mouth. 

“Higgs, what have I told you about calling the first-years children?” Gemma scolded from the couch next to the one Draco, Harry, Pansy, and Theo had taken over. Pansy was making eyes at her. Typical.

Higgs grumbled something about first years technically still being children while Farley rolled her eyes and got up to stand next to him. 

“Right,” Gemma started. “Welcome to the first Slytherin First-Year meeting. I’m Gemma Farley and this is Terence Higgs, we’re two of your prefects this year. We’re here to go over what it means to be Slytherin and our code of conduct. Higgs, do you want to start us off?” Gemma looked like she knew what his answer would be, and nodded at him when he declined.

“Splendid. Now, who here knows the four traits attributed to Slytherin House? Potter?” Gemma looked at Harry expectantly.

Draco was sitting close enough to Harry to feel the heat radiating from his face, though Draco thought he did a fine job of disguising his discomfort at being singled out. 

“Er…. Cunning, ambition, leadership, and… resourcefulness?” 

“Right on! As Slytherins, we know what we want, and we’ll do what it takes to get there, using anything at our disposal in the process. That’s not all, though. We Slytherin folk are also extremely loyal. Nothing is more important in this House than loyalty between Slytherins.” At this, her eyes swept the room, as though searching for someone who looked untrustworthy. She would make a good Auror, Draco thought.

“We do not run to professors about the things our Housemates get up to. We _do_ , however, turn to Professor Snape for any issues we need help resolving. He’s our Head of House, and he’ll help you. Anything to add, Higgs?” Gemma turned to him and waited.

“Er, sure, Gem. You kids—sorry, Gemma—First-Years aren’t allowed to play Quidditch, as you know, but you’ll be allowed at our parties if we win a game. Fourth-Years and under are allowed Butterbeer and water _only_ , and we’ll send you to your dorm if you’re caught drinking anything stronger. What else?” Gemma muttered something in his ear, and he continued, “We’ve a long history of producing Dark wizards, so we’re not gonna stop you lot from using Dark magic in the common room or your dorms, just don’t hurt anyone too bad, and do _not_ get caught using it outside the dungeons. 

“Now, this is probably our most important House rule; Whatever you decide to get up to, whatever rules you choose to break, absolutely do _not_ get caught. We want to win the House Cup this year, thank you very much.” Higgs stepped back, apparently finished with his speech.

“Right, any questions, then?” Gemma looked expectantly at the crowd of eleven-and-twelve-year-olds sprawled across the couches in front of her.

Nobody raised their hands, so Gemma wrapped the meeting up, “Okay then, you lot can come to us with any questions that come up. Dismissed.”

Draco turned to Harry and said, “We’ve got Defense tomorrow, we should go read some of the textbook in case we get a pop quiz.”

Harry smiled at him, said “Sure,” and stood up, offering a hand to help Draco up.

  
  



End file.
